


blink and youll miss it

by gayhems



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: M/M, fingernail painting, im really sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayhems/pseuds/gayhems
Summary: "Your name is music to my ears.The thought of you confronts my fears.I think of us and burst to tears."-excerpt from Ode to Armstrong(posted by Patrick)





	blink and youll miss it

**Author's Note:**

> first dr work hell yea  
> dedicated to celeste

Nail polish kissed the edge of Shuichi’s cuticle, a stark contrast of dark blue against his, admittedly, pale complexion. He knew it was his fault; he’d twitched just slightly and knocked the brush off kilter. Before it had the chance to dry, however, Amami’s thumb came to get it, free edge scraping gently to separate skin from polish. With a mumbled apology, he continued smoothing even coats of deep blue over Shuichi’s fingernails. Shuichi put his effort into not letting his hands shake, picking to let his eyes focus on the brush of Amami’s eyelashes against the peak of his cheekbone. It was quite easy to watch him work, in fact it was almost fun. From the furrow in his brow to the way his teeth scraped against the inside of his lip when he smiled too wide, every detail about him was worth noting. His hands were warm and had the makings of callouses along the curve of his palms. It, it being consistent physical contact, was really nice, much to Shuichi’s surprise.

It was almost embarrassing how long it took for Shuichi to process that Amami was _talking_ to him. He obviously wasn’t getting much of a response, but his mouth was moving and his eyes occasionally tore themselves away from his task before him to look at Shuichi’s face. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Shuichi hoped his over examination of Amami wouldn’t get him into trouble. His ears heard only white noise, accompanied by the soft peals of laughter that fell from Amami’s lips as he turned Shuichi’s hand, cradling it in his non dominant one in order to efficiently paint his thumb nail. He was still talking, but his words hit the ear oddly, as if he was talking more to himself than to someone else. Shuichi listened, murmured out a response or two, and even managed to crack a shy smile, but for some reason, he was getting significantly more flustered than he’d ever prepared for. 

Once his thumb was painted pretty and nice, Amami smiled wider, intentionally this time, lifting Shuichi’s hand and gently blowing on the wet nail polish. Shuichi’s vision shifted like it was traveling through thick mud, drawing down to the the “o” shape of Amami’s lips. In that moment, he decided that this private, almost intimate, slice of life was the most beautiful he’d ever seen Amami. So he kept his eyes on him, a subconscious sigh trapped between his tongue and his teeth. He wanted, deep down, to say something. He wanted to talk to Amami, to find common ground and stop looking at him like he was a case to be solved. Amami was a case, in a way. His every feature was positioned in a way that made him look like a baroque painting, and his attitude was so friendly, so kind, Shuichi could hardly sit across from him without pushing down the impulse to smile and laugh the whole time. It wasn’t a bad impulse, not at all, but Amami was not yet any more than a close acquaintance, and Shuichi wasn’t ready to open up too far.

It wasn’t hard to settle on the little things, though. There wasn’t a single thing that felt wrong about letting Amami paint his nails and talk idly about his family. The feeling of domesticity was hopelessly sweet, making Shuichi’s teeth ache like he’d just eaten a handful of taffy. The ache was, just like the feeling in his stomach, oddly sweet and kind.

He barely noticed when Amami set his hand carefully on the table, ready to give the other one the same treatment. As it did on his other hand, the nail polish felt cold and heavy when it first went on. Watching the color spread over his nails was just as interesting as it was the first time, though that isn’t to call it a new concept to Shuichi. Something about Amami’s smooth, calculated strokes was near hypnotizing, so calming he could hardly keep his eyes from drooping shut. Had he not been more enthralled by the microfissures of Amami’s collected emotional facade, he might have pillowed his head on his arm and taken a short nap. But he wanted to be awake, enough so that his fingertips twitched for caffeine when he knew there was none to hope for. His feet dragged back and forth against the carpet, looking for something useful to do as he watched the paint on his forefinger dry. For once, watching paint dry wasn’t a bore, and for that Shuichi could only thank his company.

Amami sat back in his seat, taking Shuichi’s left hand with him as he did. Cool breaths dried the deep blue and chilled the exposed skin of Shuichi’s hands. The sensation was, despite already happening to his right hand, still strangely dulcet, if such a word fit. Something about the thought pulled the corners of his lips, and he smiled at Amami. Even when he considered how strange it might’ve been to just sit and smile at him, Shuichi smiled. Amami glanced up and smiled a toothy smile in return, head tilting to the left ever so slightly. His eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, inspiring the kaleidoscope of butterflies in Shuichi’s stomach. Running a hand through his mess of hair, Amami continued to grin, eventually resting his cheek on his hand.

 _Oh yes,_ Shuichi thought to himself as he took in and committed every detail to memory, _this will be so much trouble._

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter and tumblr are both leokume


End file.
